Exiled
by librophile
Summary: After Mustafar, three survivors reflect on the future and their former lives which they have lost. Slightly AU to ROTS.
1. Padme

_Padmé_

A year ago, she had stood on the balcony of her home, waiting for news of her missing friends as smoke spiraled from the steeple of the Jedi Temple. Apprehensive and frightened, she had listened to the words of one of the last remaining as he told her of her husband's betrayal. A year ago she had entrusted him with her son, in hopes he could still fulfill his destiny.

A year ago.

Her former husband was unaware of her survival, or else didn't care. Her only friend, her trusted protector was gone, to where she knew not by her own request. Her family had vanished, and not the most focused efforts could discover their fates.

But for the child she guarded, she would be alone.

To those in the palace, she was a nursemaid, caring for the orphaned child of an unknown mother. She was the caretaker of the future princess, the silent figure who stood in the background. She was the mourning mother who had lost everything in the span of a heartbeat.

She was dying, she knew – her grief was strong, stronger even than the hope that stirred in her for her hidden children, weaker than the injuries she had received that dreadful day. Perhaps her child would remember her, though she knew not what good it would do. But she knew that even with her death, others would go on, carrying out the cause she had given her life to.

In her absence, there would still be hope.


	2. Obi-wan

_Obi-wan_

It had been seven years now, seven years since his only family had been lost and forgotten. Seven years since that day when his whole life was swept out from under his feet and his old persona ceased to exist.

As far as anyone who might have known otherwise, they would never think to look for him here, in the back worlds of the universe. He was still the same – cream Jedi robes tucked beneath a dark, non-descript cloak of dark brown, his skills elevated rather than declined by the time in exile, protective to a fault of his unknowing wards. His eyes were perhaps sadder than before, but still held that steady honesty that threw his unfortunate opponents completely off guard.

As far as an observer would see, however, he was simply another desert interloper, slipping in and out of their lives almost unnoticed and somehow managing to defy the harsh conditions alone and win. A hermit, he was called by those who bothered to find a name for it. A wizard, said others, rather wary of the Sand People's careful avoidance of his home. Old, he was called by that first wandering child who had stumbled upon him. Off-handed, half-hearted interest, swept away in an instant by the cares of everyday life.

Those who knew the truth he could count on one hand: his old mentor, the Alderaanian senator, the surrogate parents of the child he guarded. Even his apprentice's former wife was unknowing… she, like many others, had feared the information. Those who simply knew he still lived were also few: the traitorous Chancellor, his own former apprentice, a few higher ranking officers of the steadily darkening leadership.

But the information was of little consequence. Here he was, unnoticed, blending in with the inhabitants of this desert world. Here he made his last stand, guiding his last apprentice from a distance.

Here he was, and here he would stay. Until the time had come.


	3. Yoda

_Yoda_

It had been ten years since he had landed here, hidden by clouds of thick mist and skulking lifeforms. Ten years since he had attempted to topple the structure of this evil tyrant with the help of his sole companion.

In all the centuries he had been alive, this was the hardest.

He remembered the haunted eyes of his companion, the man he had mentored from childhood. He remembered the cackle of his victorious enemy, swooping down to finish his task. He remembered the heartbroken whisper of a gentle senator as she lay near death, proclaiming her faith in a man beyond redemption.

He remembered. And he remembered well.

The bitterness he had overlooked in a young boy's eyes, the grief in those of an orphaned padawan, the resolve in both as they attacked a task neither were prepared for. The look in the eyes of that former padawan when he learned his own apprentice had been responsible for their downfall. The rage in those of his bitter enemy.

The innocence in those of a newborn child.

He had failed, and the galaxy at large paid for the oversights of their one-time protectors. His time was passed, and yet not quite arrived.

He still had much to learn, alone and without the duties of thousands upon his low, stooped shoulders. Much to learn, for the time when he would be needed again.

When the children of Skywalker would fight back.


End file.
